


Lights On

by AllyKat8



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love, Love Confessions, Missing Moments, Tears, laughs, post stydia kiss, slight sexy time ;), the night after, the show robbed us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15058856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllyKat8/pseuds/AllyKat8
Summary: My favourite Stydia one shots are the night after the Wild Hunt are defeated. So this is classic Lydia and Stiles fluff the night they get Stiles back.Title from Shawn Mendes = Lights On"She's like a mirage, standing in the middle of his bedroom in a dress made of flowers. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looks around the room sheepishly.“I can clean this up later,” she says, grabbing a box of his old school books and sliding them back under the bed. “We were looking for something that might help us get you back and we made a mess, obviously.” "





	Lights On

 

She's like a mirage, standing in the middle of his bedroom in a dress made of flowers. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and looks around the room sheepishly.

 

“I can clean this up later,” she says, grabbing a box of his old school books and sliding them back under the bed. “We were looking for something that might help us get you back and we made a mess, obviously.”

 

She seems genuinely worried. Stiles can only smile and shake his head. How can she care about mess when she's here, in his room, in the place that has always been their safe space? This is where they solve all of their mysteries. This is where they study until two in morning before collapsing on the floor, or the bed, or both. In the morning she'd always borrow his toothbrush and hop around the room pulling on her heels as she tells her mother that she really was fine and she'll be home straight after school. Which he always knows she won't be because they'll be out getting coffee, or chasing after police cars when Stiles insistes that 'they need us!”

 

Now, she's shifting uncomfortably from one suede booted foot to the other with her hands twisting together in front of her.

 

He wants to hold her again, feel the way her lips mould against his but she feels distant now, like her mind is a million miles away. She glances his way quickly before she lets out a quiet sigh and murmurs,

 

“I'm sorry.” She pulls her lip between her teeth and shakes her head minutely. She takes a quick breath. “You should get some sleep,” she insists on the exhale. “Scott wants to meet in the morning and you're exhausted. Of course you are, why wouldn't you be?”

 

He knows that she's rambling because she doesn't know what else to do. He half expects her to run away but instead she doesn't move. She simply lets her hands fall back down heavily at her sides.

 

“Lydia,” he says gently but then she's gathering her things.

 

He can't let her go, not now that he's only just got her back. She's so close now as she brushes passed him and he grabs her hand. He considers apologising for grasping onto her so desperately but really he doesn't care. If she wants him to apologise for needing her then he was wrong to love her in the first place. And he knows he isn't wrong about that.

 

“Stay.”

 

He's expecting her to resist but instead she lets out a shallow breath and smiles. Her bag drops to the floor in a heap.

 

It shouldn't be strange to have her here, in his room, standing so close. In the past she had stood so close it felt like they could have climbed into each other like the twins if they wanted. But now there were so many unspoken words and feelings waiting to be explored piled between them like a wall. Just knowing she's staying the night feels intimate and private. It's a secret; a series of events to come that only they know about.

 

It's for this reason that he's disappointed when she says, “Do you want to shower first?”

 

She rolls her eyes to herself as if to say, 'of course you do, it's your house.' She doesn't say anything else though, just lets it hang in the air instead.

 

Stiles blinks a few times to banish the thoughts that creep into his head. Lydia in the shower. Lydia wrapped in a towel. Lydia in his t-shirt and shorts. He wonders whether maybe he's the psychic one. He hopes so.

 

“No, no, you er, you go ahead,” he lets out in a rush, waving an arm towards the bathroom.

 

She smiles and disappears into the hallway. He mourns her as she leaves.

 

Something about his room feels unnatural as he takes in the faded blue walls, the peeling paint on the bookshelf, Lydia's coat draped casually over the back of his chair with his lacrosse jersey. He thinks maybe that's the difference. She's everywhere. As he continues studying the room he notices her shoes by the door, not the ones she's wearing tonight however. Her phone charger is plugged in next to his bed and her bobby pins are covering every surface. He blushes when he sits down on his bed and finds her underwear hidden under his pillow.

 

That's where she finds him, sat on his bed with her 'Bridget Jones' pants spread out across his knees.

 

“Did you sleep here last night?” he asks her casually, holding her underwear out on the end of his finger.

 

Her cheeks burn and she snatches them back. Stiles laughs gently.

 

“Maybe,” she hedges as she pulls her hair away from her neck and throws it into a haphazard bun on the top of her head. “I wasn't planning on you ever seeing those.”

 

She wanders around the room, picking up pins as she goes and slotting them into her hair until it's secure. She shivers and Stiles notices the damp cotton of her dress sticking to her back. He opens his mouth to offer her a clean shirt but she sighs and her shoulders drop. She picks up his jersey and holds it close to her chest.

 

“I don't ever want to look the way your Dad did when he remembered you. He didn't know if he was ever going to see you again and he knew that remembering you, meant losing your Mom all over again. I don't ever want to feel like that, Stiles.” She turns towards him. She looks like she might cry but she only sniffs and carefully lays the jersey down again. “I don't want to lose you again.”

 

This time a single tear drips down her cheek but she doesn't wipe it away.

 

“Hey, you won't, okay?” he says hurriedly as he shoots up from the bed.

 

And just like that the barriers are down and he's wiping her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. She whimpers slightly as Stiles presses a slow kiss to her forehead before pulling her close. He can feel the tension in her shoulders as he encircles her in his arms. He knows she's trying not to cry. He knows her well enough to know how embarrassing this must be for her. Her hair smells like his shampoo and everything about her reminds him of home. He inhales against her skin once more before pulling away and lifting her face until her eye meet his.

 

“If you cry any more, you're going to make me cry,” he chokes half heartedly and her lips curve into a smile wanly because he already is slightly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

 

He hopes she believes him. He hopes she knows just how desperately he has loved her for so long, how much he still loves her.

When she pulls away she graces him with a watery smile. She takes a long breath and rolls her eyes.

 

“God, what's wrong with me?” she laughs incredulously, wiping carefully under her eyes. She wipes the mascara pooled on her fingers away with the hem of her dress and blinks back any tears that might dare to fall. “I look a mess, don't I?” she says bluntly but Stiles knows she doesn't mean it. She looks beautiful when she cries, she knows that, but she never seems to get tired of hearing it.

 

“Nah, you look fine,” Stiles teases with a nonchalant wave of his hand as he flops back down onto the bed.

 

She bites back a laugh and falls down beside him heavily. She's still sniffing softly even when tears have dried on her cheeks. She stretches languidly and Stiles wonders how she can suddenly seem so long, almost feline, as she arches her back and rolls her neck from side to side.

 

“Are you tired?” Stiles asks wearily when her eyes fall back on him.

 

He rolls onto his back. His muscles ache with the weight of the day and he presses himself deeper into the soft support of his old worn mattress. He knows he should get a new one but this one had nurtured him through the turning points of his life, and now it was holding onto Lydia too. It makes him sad to think that his lumpy mattress is one of the only constants in his life.

 

Beside him Lydia shakes her head.

 

“I should be,” she sighs gently.

 

Slowly, her fingers inch across the bed towards him. He sees her out of the corner of his eye but he pretends he doesn't and closes his eyes instead. He tries to hide the way his breath shudders past his lips as her fingers burn a hole in the back of his hand.

 

She's a steady weight beside him, grounding him into the moment with every breath that tickles his cheek and the skim of her fingers over his arm. A few moments of peaceful silence pass before he feels her drop down onto her back beside him and she lets out a long breath.

 

“Why did you say it?” she says suddenly and Stiles' eyes snap open at the urgency in her voice. “In the Jeep, before they took you, why then?”

 

Honestly he didn't know how to answer her. Had it been self preservation? Did he just need to say it, to get it out, even if she was going to forget it ever happened? Even if she forgot about him? Somehow he'd known that she wouldn't though, not completely anyway. A part of him that he couldn't ignore had just known it was time to tell her what she should already know. He loved her. It was that simple really and in his own way, he knew that she loved him too.

 

She wraps her hand around his and squeezes.

 

“I just needed to.” He rolls his head to the side and finds her already watching him carefully. “I needed you to know.”

 

She's quiet for a long time then, lying there with her head pillowed on her arm and her breath slipping softly between her lips.

 

Stiles gaze follows the curves of her body like a landscape. The rolling hills of her hips dipping into the valley of her waist. She's an endless expanse of skin and strawberry blond hair and he can't stop himself from reaching out and trailing a hesitant finger over the exposed skin of her shoulder. She doesn't move but he looks up in time to see her eyes fall closed.

 

He's imagined her here like this a thousand times but somehow it's still strange to see her pull her lip between her teeth as his hand skims over her hip. He's almost positive that she'll jump up soon, that she'll change her mind or disappear into the air and he'll never see her again. Instead she shivers as his fingertips ghost her bare thigh and Stiles watches the goosebumps that ripple across her skin where they connect. He has to follow the line of his knuckles to his elbow, up his arm to his shoulder to convince himself that this hand, the hand eliciting such a reaction from her, really belongs to him.

 

“You really need to stop biting your nails,” Lydia comments suddenly and he jumps slightly, snapping his hand back like he's been burnt. She smiles and opens her eyes again.

 

She seems comfortable, content and sleepy almost but her eyes are bright and challenging.

 

“Sorry,” he says immediately, but he's not. “I was just -”

 

“Making sure I'm real,” she finishes for him and drags a hand over her damp hair. When he nods she looks sad for a moment but then flashes him a winning smile and shifts closer.

 

“I'm not going anywhere,” she whispers softly. “I promise.”

 

Her nose is a hairsbreadth away from his. Maybe in a month or so, when they're lying together watching The Notebook they'll laugh at how their eyes cross and become one when they're this close. She'll apologise for having Cheeto breath and he'll kick her in the thigh by accident as he leans in. But for now they're perfect and when her lips mould into his a moment later there's only white light in his head, radio silence and the scent of her hair everywhere around them.

 

He told her that she didn't have to say it back, but she does, four times at least each time he's inside her and again when he pulls her impossibly closer in the morning and it sounds better falling from her lips than any public declaration he could imagine.

 

In the end, she's Lydia Martin. The scars on her body are secrets that only he knows now. The choke in her throat as she climaxes is a music that only he's allowed to hear. And if he's wrong, and he knows he isn't, it's okay, because she's smiling softly in her sleep beside him now and he knows that's a masterpiece only he will ever see.

 

 

 

 


End file.
